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Sunday dispatch. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1845-1854, November 24, 1850, Image 1

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WILLIAMSON & BURNS, Publishers, ?
OFFIC23 61 ON STREET. 5
MARY LAWSON.
BY EUGENE SUE.
CHAPTER IX.
’ When Mademoiselle de Morvillo reached her
own apartment, after having committed her new
governess to the care of the garrulous Madame
Pivolet, she found her mother standing on the
threshold.
“ Ah, mamma,” cried the young maiden, “what
an awful night it is!"
“ It is indeed a terrible night, my dear child !
But have you seen Miss Lawson to her room '!”
“ I accompanied her as far as the hall, mamma,
and there she positively refused to let me attend
her any further. Madame Pivolet, however,
has fulfilled that duty. Shall we say good
night V' .
“Not yet, my love, if you have no objection.
It is not late ; and, for my part, I feel no wish to
retire just yet, with that tempestuous. gale to
keep me awoke.- 0 -
“ Then come into my apartment, and warm
yourself; there is a brisk fire burning on the
hearth.”
“ Shall I bring Madame de Gcnlis’s pretty
talc of ‘ Adela and Theodore ’ along with me, or
the ‘ Evenings of the Castle V ”
“ Ton may as well. But stop ! now I think of
it, had you not better give the preference to your
friend Lagrange, and read her manuscript I”
“ Oh, yes, certainly; I long to read that!
You know we promised her to read it, and give
her our opinion of it. Besides, the time for
returning the tale is almost come, I believe.”
“ Bring it with you, Alphonsine.”
Whilst Mademoiselle de Morville went to her
desk to take out the manuscript, her mother went
into her own apartment. The young lady was
not long before-she joined her there.
Monsieur de Morvillo and his lady were sitting
on either side of the fire-place in deep causeuses.
“ So, my pretty child.” said the father, as she
went in with the book, “ you and your mother
have been brewing a conspiracy, it seems, against
my rest. Pray, what sober part am Ito play in
it !”
“ You shall read to us papa, if you like.”
“ Your father reads so nicely,” rejoined Ma
dame de Morville, smiling archly, “that it en
hances the pleasure of hearing a good tale. Shall
I mix you a glass of cau sucrce ? ,f
“lam fairly in for it, I see,” returned the hus
band ; “ so I will put another log of wood on the
fire, my dear, whilst you are mixing the bever
age. Good God ! how the wind blows P’
Madame de Morville went to a side cupboard,
brought out a small crystal bottle, beautifully
cut, containing some fleur d'orangc, with a de
canter of water, a basin of sugar, and two tumb
lers. She mixed two glasses of the simple
draught, one for her husband, the other for her
self and her daughter.
Alphonsine, still holding the manuscript, took
a small stool, placed it by the side of her mother s
chair, so as to face the hearth, whilst she sat be
tween her two parents, and sat down looking at
her father, who had just raised the eau sucree to
his mouth, to prepare himself to read.
“Now, Alphonsine, I am quite ready; please
to give me the book.”
“ Here, papa,’ said she presenting it.
Monsieur do Morville thereupon took the man
uscript from his daughter’s hand. It was a thick
quarto volume, bound in blue morrocco leather
and marbled at the edges.
Alphonsine placed her hands and arms on her
mother’s lap, rested her cheek upon her hands,
and looked up at her father in an attitude of re
gardful attention.
The husband gave one glance at his wife and
child, drew back into his heart the pleasure of
the domestic scene, opened the manuscript and
read:
KITTY BELL, THE ORPHAN.
1 was not above four years old when my mother
died, my poor father having gone to his grave
two years before ; 1 had neither brother nor sis
ter. '
Cheltenham was my birth place ; but, some
time before her death my mother had come to
reside at the city of Gloucester, where I continued
afterwards.
Oh, it is a sad, sad thing to be an orphan ! to
open one’s eyes to the miseries of life, with none
to look up to for protection ; to be from the be
' ginning a sort of castaway, whom nobody acknow
ledges. For a boy this is a cruel lot; what, then,
must this bo for a little girl four year* old J
The first recollections I have wore sour looks,
sour words, and hard blows. I was a butt to
every one who came near me—the general mark
for every body’s spite. Many a time have'l been
culled, and kicked, and knocked down, when 1
was not yet in my sixth year. My little head
has been cut with more than one fall, and blood
has flowed down my neck. But nobody cared.
What did it signify '? it was only Kitty Bell, and
Kitty Bell belonged to nobody; there was no
loving heart to take me to itself, and soothe me.
If there had been, I could have borne the cruel
treatment without complaining: I was used to
cuff§ and blows but not to consolation and ten
derness*
I had been taken home by some relation of my
mother’s, also resident at Gloucester, from that
sense of duty which it seems still survives in the
heart when the charities are all dead within it.
This relation was a widow : and, though she treat
ed mo rigor until she died, she repent
ed and melted a little on her death-bed,~"and cal
ling her two children—a girl of sixteen and a boy
of twelve—to her bedside, she made them promise
to take care of me, and treat me as a sister when
she was gone.
They took the vow cheerfully; I did not wonder
at it; for a butt and victim, to some crooked
natures, is a very necessary thing; so that, if I
had not been there, Sarah and George Burke
would have had to vent upon each other the spleen
they now vented upon me. Indeed, when I think
of it, they ought to have been grateful to mo for
this standing service; and loved me a little, too,
since they took so much pleasure in my suffer
ings.
When Mrs. Burke died, I believe 1 must have
been about six or seven years old, and I remem
ber 1 had a very strange feeling about it; for
they gave me a very nice new black frock, which
1 sadly wanted, and 1 was not beaten by any one
for several days. This respite was the happiest
time 1 had known yet. It made me think Mrs.
Burke’s death a natural event, rather agreeable
than otherwise. I had much difficulty in screw
ing up my little mouth, and looking blank like
the rest of the house. lam afraid 1 made a very
. bad mourner.
Indeed this want of hypocrisy brought me into
disgrace ; for I took some pride in my new
clothes, and used to steal a glance at myself in
the mirror whenever I came near one.
“ Kitty, Kitty, you naughty, naughty girl I”
cried Sarah, one forenoon, following me into the
parlor, where 1 was thus pleasantly occupied;
“ what can you be looking in the glass for t Is
this a time for such vanity, and mother not dead
above a fortnight 1”
Now Sarah was a plain girl herself, and did
not like me a bit better for having a face worth
looking at. I was not handsome to be sure; but,
though rather pale, 1 was what they call good
looking : and a clear white skin looks none the
worse for a black dress. On hearing the voice
of Sarah, I turned about me, and saw her long,
thin hand raised to strike me. She changed her
mind, however, and, instead of me the
cuff 1 fully expected, she seized me by the arm,
and dragged me through the parlor, up the stairs,
and took me into a dull, cold bedroom on the se
cond floor. This was the very room in which
both Mr. and Mrs. Burke bad died, in which
both likewise had been laid out, and where I my
self had seen the dead body of the widow in her
black coffin, before the lid had been screwed on.
...Not-vnv or the servants, ncicner Sarah nor
George would even venture alone into that awful
room.
Oh I how my little heart froze when Sarah car
ried me into it! The moment sho let me go, I
fell down on my knees and implored her not to
put me into that room ; I promised to be a good
girl, never to look into the glass again, and to do
whatever they bid mo
“ These promises arc all very fine,” cried .‘Sa
rah; “ but I know you too well to trust you.
You are a wicked, selfish, unruly child, whom I
despise and George hates. Nobody in the house
cau bear you!’
tShe went to the door to go out. 1 ran after
her and caught her by t he dress, and cried:
“ Let me go let me go ! I um afraid to stop
here by myself. Let me go! 1 will be good—l
will be good I”
“ There—there ’ cried she. “ Stay where
you arc for the present.” And she pushed me
back so rudely that 1 fell upon the floor. “ You
shall stay in this room all day long !”
Then she locked the door outside, leaving me
alone in the cold, damp room, in which the old
lady had died only two weeks previously.
• s is certainly very foolish to be afraid of death.
\\ hat cun the dead do to injure us—they who
ca.ioot help themselves 1 Nothing. They are
a< the poet says, “ but as pictures.” Yet there
is something in most people which makes them
feel a gloomy terror on entering the last places
their departed friends had tenanted.
1 had often been alone in other rooms of the
house, where 1 had seen Mrs. Burke before she
d ß 'd; but she had not died in any of them, and
therefore j n them 1 saw nothing to fear.
As it j stood by the door, crying and
screaming at the top of my voice. I called out
repcateuly upon Sarah and George, and upon
laiy the housemaid, who had less antipathy to
me than the rest of the house. But nobody
came. J
Then I pat down with toy f acc t „ the door, and
thought what a poor lonely ermtm e 1 was with
out father or mother, sister or brother.
twelve o'clock in the'day when
h. afi a. liitlc, an: ?.i!-ly ivpr,.;.
, v, hcii Mury wuuid be .-.-ill.
with my dinner. I thought there would be a
change in that, a moment’s interruption, when I
should sec a living face in that dismal room.
Two o’clock was a long time coming—it came
at last. By and bye I heard a bustle down stairs,
which I knew must be the prepararations being
made for dinner in the parlor. I waited some
time still; but nobody came. Oh, how the hour
seemed tu liugoi ! At lust 1 heard the clock strike
three.
Now I began to be impatient and angry. My
fit of passion was coming through my blood like
a returning tide. 1 heard another noise down
stairs, ami was sure they were taking the things
away. I began to cry again, and kick at the
door with all the strength I had. Presently
there was a sound of something on the stairs : it
came nearer ; but it was not the sound of human
feet. What was it then I and why did my little
heart beat gladly I
It was the sound of my friend Nero, the dog, a
fine boast of the Newfoundland breed, as big al
most as a little pony. Nero had belonged to Mr.
Burke, and had once saved my life, when I had
fallen into the pond in the garden. He had never
shown any aversion to me before, and from that
day he had loved me with a dog’s . unselfish
fidelity.
When Nero had come to the door, he put up
his paws, and kept ,brushing them against the
panncl for me to let him in. But I could only
respond to his kindness by calling out:
“ Nero, my dear, good Nero, they have locked
mo in ! lam hungry, Nero—both„ hungry and
cold !”
Still Nero brushed his paws against the pannel,
and not being able to open the door, I sat down
again, and spoke to the dog through the slit be
tween the door and the boards. Nero put his
head down too, so wo got as near each other as
we copld.
• We remained in this position for at least an
hour. At the end of that time, on looking about
me, I perceived a small round window, or vent
hole, in the wall, which looked into a room at the
side of this chamber of the dead. By getting
upon a table I should be able to reach it, and
open it, if not fastened. Here was another
change for me.
But to open that window I must advance into
the chamber, a thing I had not ventured to do yet.
No, there had I stuck close by the door, like a lit
tle coward, as I was, for the space of four hours
and better.
“ Wait a minute, Nero !” said 1.
Nero gave a short friendly bark in acquiescence,
whilst 1 went and drew a table to the wall, got
upon it, and opened the window. I looked into
the chamber thus exposed to my view : it seem
ed to be a sort of lumber room for old furniture,
boxes and trunks, ropes, and all manner of odds
and ends. There was directly beneath the win
dow a large sofa, and on that sofa, some bedding
rolled up ; the door, too, was open.
Evqry impediment was now removed between
us—here was evidently a channel of communica
tion between me and the dog.
“ Nero ’ Nero !” I cried softly ; “ Nero come
to me!”
In an instant he obeyed ; he leapt upon the
sofa, and then upon the bedding. He put his big
noble head through the vent hole, and tried* to
pass his body likewise; but the hole, it seemed,
was not large enough. So I took his head in my
arms and kissed it; and the .kind hearted dog
licked the orphan’s cheek.
I felt much more happy now; I had something
living like myself that was near to me, and loved
me. How 1 could have loved a brother if 1 had
had one I How I could have loved either Sarah
or George had either of them loved me I
Five o’clock struck, and nobody came; 1 was
getting intolerably hungry.
“ What am 1 to do, my friend Nero L’ said I
to the dog ; I have had nothing to eat since
breakfast, and every one seems to forget poor
Kitty Bell
Nero seemed to understand me 5 lie first -whined
very dolefully, then looked very gravely into my
face, and then pushed his head against my chest
to be patted.
It began to grow dusky now. We were in the
month of October, when the days were short; at
six o’clock it was so dark that I felt my terrors
return, notwithstanding the company of the New
foundland dog.
1 got down from tho table, groped my way to
the door, and cried out again for somebody to
come and open it. This time it appeared that my
cries had been heeded, for I could hear the sound
of feet upon the stairs.
It was Sarah.
“ W r hy do you make such a clatter you good
for-nothing child I” said she, without opening
the door.
“Oh Sarah ! dear Sarah !” I exclaimed; “do
let me out that’s a good girl—l am so cold and
hungry I”
“ Fiddlestick! Have you not had a good
breakfast, you wicked creature I Who are you,
pray, to cat at other people’s tables, and feast
like them ? Docs this house belong to you I
Have you any claim here I Are you not a dirty,
beggarly brat, picked out of the kennel, and fed
through charity
These were harsh words which I used to hear
every day : •! could not answer them; 1 could
only weep and sob when they were applied to me.
1 knew I was a mere dependent on charity, and,
child as I was, 1 also knew how little charity
there was to be depended on.
Sarah appeared to have observed that tho door
of the lumber-room was open, for she shut it with
a slam, locked it, and went down again, taking
no heed of my supplications.
It was so dara now that I was afraid to go
back to the vent hole, but I cried out every now
and then, in an undertomr:
“ Nero ! Nero !”
And my faithful guardian moaned lowly, to in
timate his interest and protection.
Then 1 shut my eyes and tried to sleep ; I oven
think 1 dozed off a little between the hours ; for
1 did not hear them all strike. Still, whenever
I roused again, 1 repeated my soft cry:
“Nero! Nero!”
And the generous dog repeated his low moan.
Suddenly there came a gleam of light through
the key hole. I looked through it—there was
nothing yet.
Again 1 thought I saw the gleam ; what could
it be I My heart throbbed so quickly that I
could scarcely breathe.
Nero gave an angry growl.
And now I could hear a short, heavy tread
upon the stairs—it was coming up—it came nearer
and nearer.
Nero gave a fierce savage bark, and sprang to
tiic door, pushing his feet and heavy head against
it. Then he rushed back to the vent-hole.
The tread came nearer—it was within a few
steps of the landing.
The gleam shot through the key-hole a third
time, with treble radiance. For all that I dared
not look again; the dog’s bark had frightened
me, and his present frantic efforts to get through
chilled the blood in my veins.
I Jieard a key inserted into the lock, then a
quick turn, and the door was thrown open. At
the same instant a heavy fall upon the floor told
me that the noble Newfoundland dog had forced
his body through, and there he was by my side.
1 shrieked, a,nd clapped my hands over my eyes,
and then fell down as if I had been shot, but still
screaming as never child screamed before. 1
fainted, but even as I did so, 1 heard the growl
and the leap of my protector as he sprung upon
tho apparition.
But what had I seen 3 I cannot tell. Was it
a vision ! was it a ghost I It was a tall figure in
white, like a winding sheet, with a hideous face,
and balls of glaring fire whero the eyes should be.
This sightJuM otuimed me, and levelled me al
most like a cudgel blow on the temple.
Fast by degrees 1 became unconscious, and was
borne away in that condition to my Ijttle bed,
where Mary was sent to watch me until 1 should
recover. Another body was borne away at the
; same time, yelling and bleeding !
i It was the apparition!
(To be continued.)
DEATH OF COL. R M, JOHNSON.
This distinguished military man died at his
residence, .Scott Co., Kentucky, on tho 19th
instin the sixty fifth year of his age- The
battle of the Thames, in 1813, places him in the
rank of the military heroes of our country. Af
ter the war, he was honored with a seat in Con
gress. He was honored by the Baltimore Con
i vention in 1836, for the Vice Presidency, and
I received just one half of the vote of the Electo
ral College—l 47 Tho Senate proceeded, as the
I Constitution requires, to elect a Vice President,
and Col. Johnson was chosen- Since then, we
believe, he has been elected to the Legislature
of his State.
His Sunday Mail Report, in 1829, has been
universally admired, though it is said that it was
not the production of Col R M. Johnson. Ano
ther circumstance which has given to his name
some little celebrity, was the killing of Tecum
seh, the celebrated Indian warrior; but this,
too, has been much doubted His military
bravery, incorruptible honesty in public and pri
vate life, and his amiable qualities in every re
spect, are traita in his character tho existence of
which none ever disputed As a man of intel
lect, no did not rank above mediocrity among
those who have held similar civil stations. There
was nothing profound or brilliant that he ever
produced.
His Sunday Mail Report indicated a depth of
thought and force of argument which it is not
believed he possessed ; and it is pretty well un
derstood that it was written by a friend of his,
a clergyman. He, however, deserves tlje credit
of adopting tho great principle of the report-,
and his doing so was in some points as creditable
to him as though he had written it.
O’ Some twenty or thirty female studanls
have Already joined ibe new class of the Boston
Female Medical School.
[Original.]
The Frost King.
BY JEAN L. BRUCE.
Cynthia with her starry steeds flies o’er the ether
plain,
The wind comes rushing o’er the hills, and speeds
ecrosfl the main;
Still shouting with his organ voice, sonorous, loud,
and deep,
That makes the rich man smile with joy, the poor
man shrink and weep;
For the rich one. dreams of revel-of feasting—and of
mirth,
The ])oor one thinks with terror, of his foodless,
fireless hearth.
And he laughs, and leaps, and dances, and frolics
’meng the reeds.
And ne«tles on the meadow, with the dry and faded
weeds;
And tosses up the wither’d leaves, high in the shin
_And mocks them, as misfortune will a mortal in des
pair,
Encompass’d round by sorrows, in tho boundless
range of grief,
While anguish triumphs o’er him. as the wild wind
o’er the leaf.
There’s a sadness in his music, a solemn dirge like
tone,
As he tells the Lapland stranger is marching to his
throne,
The young may laugh in gladness—and the happy
shout with glee,
As the fairy flakes are falling—pell a mell—and mer
rily,
The sombre ground empearling, still the tiny gems
increase,
Till they fold in mimic mountains, their white and
snowy fleece.
He rivets icy fetters, on the bright and flashing
streams,
And shrivels up the flowers, ’mid their sunny autumn
dreams;
The hail storm, and the tempest, are his heralds from
afar.
They tell that he approaches, on his frost enamel’d
car :
His trumpet sounds are ringing, in the cold and
piercing blast,
Lo ! the haughty monarch cometh -and the Autumn
flieth past.
And the trees are deck’ jewels, all shivering with
light,
That pour their crackling music on the freezing
wings of night;
They murmur not of mercy—for the hoarse and
croaking wind.
In his track of desolation—leaveth misery behind;
The shelterless must perish when his ruthless pinions
flap,
Death sealeth up their sorrows, on the icy winter's
lap.
There’s melody, and revel, where the proud and
wealthy dwell,
They hail’d the hour delighted when the glist’ning
snow flakes fell,
And sparkling eyes grew brighter round the j oyous
household blaze.
For blithesome times before them in the merry win
ter days;
They look upon thee gaily, as the moment’s come
and go.
With thy sky of amber brightness, and thine ice en
circl’d brow.
The ripples hush their peans-and in solemn gran
duer rest,
As in coat of polish'd armor, the slumb’ring streams
are drest!
Equipp’d to war with winter—their bright armies
cease to move,
And the sunbeams o'er their surface, in refulgent
splendor rove;
The fiery shafts descending, pierce their waveless
mirror through,
And sport like golden spirits, on the p.aly sheet of
blue.
As he shakes his hoary tresses, in wild hilarous
mirth.
The flood of drops congealing form a silv’ry garb for
earth !
The seasons fly before him-, and he triumphs as they
fall,
As he shrouds and shackles nature, with a glazy
chrystal pall,
lie marshals on the spectral winds o’er valley, wave,
and steep.
And forges gyves of icicles, to chain her torpid sleep.
With retinue of glaciers, he is walking o'er the tide,
And coursing o'er the mountains with a bold and
hasty atride;
With ghastly snow-wreath'd sceptre, tho’ he dims
the blue rob’d skies,
He adds a frenzied lustre, to night’s thousand flash
ing eyes:
Hie-Uerald’a. trump ia ao.nndfog 3 ill the COid and
piercing blast,
Lo : the haughty monarch cometh— and the Autumn
flieth past.
[Original.]
POLITICAL EVENTS.
MOVEMENTS OF DISTINGUISHED IN
DIVIDUALS AND CONVENTIONS.
Within the past few days, several important
speeches have been made, and letters written,
all of which look to political movements.
MR. WEBSTER
On passing through this city on his way to Wash
ington, addressed a few friends his Hotel, on
the great subject of union'snd peace to our great
country. He spoke thus: —
“ It is time to become more American than we
have been, and to imbibe the spirit, as well as to
bear the name. Within the sphere oi the du
ties of the general government it is necessary
that there should be as much union and as much
good feeling towards it as the different habits
and opinions of individuals will possibly permit.
Well, gentlemen. I for one see nothing to dis
courage any honest and resolute lover of his
country. The Union will be saved. Conven
tions may be held in the North and the South,
but they will all vanish in thin air. Agitations,
and cabals, and factions, may arise (and they
will arise,) but they will be rebuked and sup
pressed by the great body of American citizens,
who desire nothing but protection, and that their
name should be repeated throughout the world—■
that which every good government is bound to
.afford. Thus the country will be honored abroad
and stand forth as an example to all the free na*
tion« of tkc world.”
These are noble words, and were spoken at th©
right time.
HENRY CLAY.
The great Kentucky statesman has delivered a
speech before the Legislature of that State, by
invitation of a committee of one of the Houses,
on tho condition of the country with reference to
the agitating questions of the day. After briefly
explaining his desire that all the agitating ques
tions connected with the slavery question should
have been passed in one bill, and alluding to the
causes of the defeat of that desire, he says :
“ The great effort of the South, is to avoid the
Wilmot Proviso being engrafted on Territorial
bills. It is that odious restriction which created
the greatest complaint, occasioned the most ex
citement at the South. Well, the Commitoe
reported Territorial bills for New Mexico and
Utah, without the Proviso—the South triumph
ed by the liberal, magnanimous, and patriotic
aid of Northern Members—it is true, that while
the honor of the South in that respect is perfect
ly preserved, she may never enjoy the privilege of
transporting slaves to either California, Utah, or
New Mexico ; but if she never can, whose fault
is it I Not that of Congress, which has cautious,
ly abstained from all prohibitions, and has adopt
ed the principle of non-intervention. It has left
New Mexico* and Utah perfectly free. When
they come respectively to form for themselves
State Governments, to reject or exclude slavery
as they shall desm best for their own happiness,
and, whether rejected or excluded, in their consti
tutions, upon their being presented for admission
into the Union they are to be received as members
of the confederacy. In regard to California—by
her Constitution and notby Congress has she ex
cluded slavery^—the rot© of her Convention in
terdicting it is unanimous, nearly on a-third of
the delegates themselves being from Slavehold
ing States. In bo deciding for themselves they
acted in perfect conformity with every sound
principle of the theory and practice which has
ever prevailed in this country, and in entire ac
cordance with the highest Southern authority.
1 asked them —if there is blame, who is to be re
proached for the exclusion of Slavery in Cai for
ma, New Mexico and Utah 1 Not Congress,
most assuredly—the reproaches must be directed
against the people of California, for the exercise
ot their incontestable right, and against Nature
and Nature’s God decree against
ths introduction of slavery into the mountain
ous, barren and most unprofitable regions of
Naw Mexico and Utah. If these unsurmount
able obstacles can ,be overcome, the iieople of
these territories arc loft free to introduce slavery
if they think proper, but candor obliges me to
say, that 1 think it never will be introduced
there.”
He then alludes to the various opinions in the
Senate upon the boundary of Texas -one that it
embraced all of New Mexico, another that it ex=
tended to ths Rio del Norte, and a third that it
only extended to the Nueces,—he then says,
that as a measure of compromise he voted for
the bill giving Texas ten millions of dollars,
with its prescribed boundaries, as ths best thing
that could be done
He then considers what he terms the losses
and gains of the two sections, by the settlement
of the agitating questions. As regards Califor
nia, neither party, so far as Congressional legis
lation was concerned,has gained or lost. What
has been done in California,on the slavery ques
tion, has not been done by Congress, but by the
people of that State. As to the territories of
Utah and New Mexicr, the South had gained.
They have prevented the application of the Wil
mos proviso to the bills providing territorial go
vernments for them. If slavery is never tolera
ted in these territories, as he thinks it never will
be, it will be by the action of the people that it
is excluded.
He then comes to the grest measures for tho
■South. The Fugitive Slave Bill, and the Abo
lition of the Slavo Trade in the District of Co
lumbia He insists that the South gets an effec
tive provision for the restoration of Fugitive
Slaves, by the bill for that purpose; and will be
quieted on the subject of the agitation of slave
ry in the District of Columbia by tho abolition
>n the odious trade there. He regards the latter
measure as one demanded by the interests both
of the North and th© South. Th© question of
paramount interest is the Fugitive Slave Bill, of
which he speaks as follows: —
NgW YORK, SUNDAY MORNING, NOVEMBER 24, 1850.'
Thus, Mr. Speaker, I trust and believe that o?
all the numerous threatening topics connected
with slavery at the commencement of the last
session of Congress, one only remains to create
interest and solititude, and that'is the Fugitive
Slave Bill. Narrowed down to that single
ground, the slave-holding States will occupy the
vantage position. The Constitution is with
them ; the law is with them ; the right is with
them ; and if its execution should be opposed or
attempted to be thwarted by force, the State
which makes such opposition will place itself
clearly, manifestly, and indisputably in the
wrong. Occupying such a ground, the slave
holding States may fearlessly and conscientious
ly await the issue. It was not to be expected,
nor did I expect, that the measures adopted at
the last session of Congress would lead to an im
mediate and general acquiescence on the part of
the ultraists of the North .and South. They
had been impelled by such violent and extreme
passions, that it was ansaaL t.hov
would silently and promptly admit their errors,
and yield to what had been done for the best in
terests of our common country. Accordingly
we perceive that at the South a second edition
of the Hartford Convention has again assem
bled. and is laboring to stir up strife and con
tention; and in several of the slave holding
States the spirit ot discord and discontent is bu
sily engaged in its unpatriotic work. But 1 con
fidently anticipate that all their mad efforts will
be put down by the intelligence, patriotism and
love of the Union, of the very people of the
slave-holding States. And here, Mr Speaker,
let us make a momentary inquiry, as to what
would have been the condition of the confedera
cy on the subject of slavery, if, unhappily, it
had been dissevered. Assuming that the line
could have been drawn between slave-holding
and non-slave-holding States, all North of the
States of Maryland and Virginia, and all North
of the Ohio river would have become a foreign
independence. An independent foreign power is
not bound to surrender a fugitive who takes re
fuge within its jurisdiction. We have recently
seen this great international principle acted upon
by the Sultan of Turkey in the case of Kossuth
and his Hungarian companions, who took re
fuge in the Sultan’s dominions. His refusal to
surrender them upon the demand of Russia and
Austria was enthusiastically admired, approved,
•and applauded by all of us. Now, Mr. Speaker,
we have the Constitution, the law, and the clear
right on our side. Dissolve the Confederacy and
create new laws, and the right will be transfer
red from us to others. I may be asked, as I have
been asked, whether I would consent to a disso
lution of the Union. I answer—never, never,
never ! Because I can conceive of no possible
contingency that would make it for the interest
and happiness of the peoplo to break up this
glorious confederacy; to separate it into bleeding
and belligerent parts. Show me —what I believe
impossible to show—that there will be great
er security for liberty, life, prosperity and hu
man happiness, in the midst of jarring, jealous
and warring independent North American pow
ers, than under the eagle of the Union, and I
will consent to its dissolution—l would not hold
to it—if Congress were to usurp a power which I
am sure it never will, to abolish slavery within
tho States; for in the contingency of such a
usurpation, we should be in a better condition
as to Slavery, (bad as it would be,) out of the
Union, than in the Union.
Apprehensions have been entertained and ex
pressed as to the want, in future time, of Terri
torial scope for the Slave population. 1 believe
that a very distant event, not likely to occur in
the present or next century. Whenever the vast
unoccupied wastes in Missouri, Arkansas, Louis
iana, Alabama, Florida and Texas, shall become
fully peopled, Slavery will have reached its na
tural termination. The density of population
in the United States will then be no great, that
there will be such reduction in the price and
value of labor, as to render it much cheaper to
employ free than slave labor; and Slaves, bo
coming a burden to their owners, will bo volun
tarily disposed of, and allowed to go free. Then,
1 hope and believe, under the dispensation of
Providence, the Continent of Africa,”by the sys
tem of Colonization, will be competent to receive
from America, all the descendants of its own
Race. If the agitation in regard to the Fugitive
Slave Law should continue and increase and be
come alarming, it will lead to the formation of
two parties, one for the Union, and one against
the Union. Present parties have been created
by division of opinion as fco systems of national
policy, as to finance, free trade, or protection,
tho improvement of rivers and harbors, the dis
tribution of the proceeds of public lands, &c.
But these systems of policy, springing from the
administration of the government of the Union,
lose all their interest and importance, if that
Union is to be dissolved. They sink into utter
insignificance before the all important, perva
sive, and paramount interest of the Union itself.
Tho platform of that Union party will be—the
Union, tho Constitution, and enforcement of its
laws,; and if it should be necessary to form such
a party, and it should be accordingly formed, I
anneunce myself in this place a member of that
Union party, whatever may be its component
elements. Sir, Igo further. I have great hopes
and confidence in the principles of the Whig
party, as being most likely to conduce to the
nonor, the prosperity, and the glory of my coun
try. But if it is to be merged into a contempti
ble Abolition party, and it Abolitionism is to be
engrafted upon tho Whig creed, from that mo
ment I renounce the party, and cease to be a
Whig Igo yet a step further. If lam alive,
I will give my humble support to that man for
the Presidency, who, to whatever party he may
belong, is not contaminated by fanaticism;
rather than to one who, crying out all tho time
aloud that he is a Whig, maintains doctrines
utterly subversive of the Constitution and the
Union.
Mr. Speaker, I speak without reserve, and
with entire freedom. If there be a man tread
ing the soil of this broad earth, who feels him
self perfectly independent, lam that man. 1
have no ambitious aspirations. I want no office
—no station in the gift of man. I would resign
that which I hold, if 1 thought I could do so at
this time with honor. I want no place whatever.
I beg pardon, sir,—there is one plaee only which
I desire, and that is, a warm place in your hearts.
Our late heated discussions and divisions have
nroduced one good result—the people generally,
Whigs and Democrats, have been more thrown
together in free and friendly intercourse. Both
have learned to appreciate each other- For my
self, I declare, with the utmost truth and plea
sure, that, during the late arduous and protract
ed session, I was in conference and consultation
quite as often, if not oftener, with Democrats
than Whigs; and I found in the Democratic
party quite as much patriotism, devotion to the
Union, honor, and probity, as in the other
party.
Mr- Speaker, tho State of Kentucky, although
not one of the largest States, in point of popu
lation, occupies a proud and lofty position in my
confidence. She was the pioneer State in the
settlement of the great valley. She is geogra
phically not remote from the centre of the Union,
to which she has always been firmly attached.—
The renown of her arms and the uncalculating
gallantry,of her people are everywhere known
and admitted To the fields of battle within
her reach, since the days of the Revolution, her
sons have rushed, and poured out freely their
patriotic blood That splendid monument be
yond a hill overlooking this picturesque valley,
so creditable to the sculptor for the beauty of its
classical design, and the excellence of its chaste
execution attests her glory, and the afflicting
loss of friends and countrymen. Covered as the
column is, almost, with tho names of the heroic
dead, let us cling to the Union until there is not
a space left upon the marble for inscribing the
names of those who may hereafter fall in fighting
the battles of their common country. While the
Northwestern States, Virginia, Tennessee, and
Kentucky remain firm In their attachment to
the Confederacy, no presumptuous hand will
dare attempt to draw successfully a line of its
separation —ln conclusion, Mr. Speaker, I re
new the exprossion of my respectful acknowledg
ments for the distinguished honor of this occa
sion. It will form an epoch in ay life: will ever
be cherished most gratefully in my memory, and
will be transmitted to my descendants as a pre
cious legacy.
SENATOR BENTON.
Wc have a long speech from Senator Benton,
denouncing Mr. Clay for bringing forward his
omnibus bill, and thus, as he asserts, prevent
ing an earlier settlement of the agitating ques
tions, and protracting the session to r later pe
riod of adjournment than ever before. We
don’t see much in Benton’s speech except self
laudation. Yes, it must be admitted that few
men ever lived in this republic who has so long
had the confidence of a majority of his consti
tuency. For more than thirty years has this
distinguished Senator enjoyed almost unlimited
confidence of the people of his State, and of a
portion of the people of tho Union. man in
tho Union is better versed in the science of go
vernment, has exercised a greater influence in
the Senate of the nation.
JOHN M. CLAYTON.
We have a'long speech from the Honor
able John M- Clayton, in which he vindicates
the policy of the late President, Gen Taylor,
and comes out boldly for Gen. Scott, for the
nexi Presidency.
Mr. Clayton deserves much credit for the
honesty oi his course; and in his vindication of
Gen- Taylor’s policy he has acted different from
most of those who wore the warm friends of the
departed President, and who supported him
while living with ail their energy. But as soon
as he was no more, and power had gone into
other hands they changed their policy, and at
tached themselves to other interests. John M.
Clayton is not eno of those, and whatever we
may think ot the policy of Gen. Taylor and his
Cabinet on the great questions of the day, we
cannot avoid praising the manliness of the late
Secretary of State, who will not villify the dead,
at a time when it has become popular to do so.
. THE NASHVILLE CONVENTION.
Has adjourned since our last issue, without
having done any thing which threatens the
peace or harmony of tho Union. A great
many prominent Southern men have come out
with letters and speeches in favor of union,
p.sking only of the North to stand by the laws
passed at the last session of Congress—-and par
ticularly the Fugitive Slave Xaw—and the,
South will adhere to the Union with fidelity
and in good faith-
THE PRESIDENT.
Tho President has written a very important
letter to Doctor Collins, of Georgia, the owner of
tho fugitive slave, Crafts, in which he asserts
that the laws shall be enforced
Looking to all of these movements in tho po
litical firmament, we think that we may say that
the threatened danger to the union of the States
is fast disappearing. The good sense of tho peo
ple will triumph over all the machinations of its
enemies in all sections of tho Union, and our on
ward progress will be marked with a grandeur
and glory that no other nation can boast of
(Original.,!
©etimus of 1850;
ITS CONSEQUENCES.
By tho census ofUnited States ths ratio
for tho distribution of political dt pro
duced. Every ten years we have a now basis of
representation for the House of Representatives
in Congress. The basis of representation adopt
ed under the census of 18-10, was one member of
tho House of Representatives for every 70,680
perlons in a State—of course counting only
three-fifths cf the slaves in the slave States.—
Our population in 1840 was 17,018,854, including
2 48/,213 slaves. After deducting two-fifths of
the slaves, the balance of the population of the
United States was 16,023.969. This copulation
gave 226 members —or one for every 70,680 per
sons. Since then several new States have come
into the Union, so that wo have 236 members,
since the admission of California.
The decennial increase of the population, for
the ten years ending with 1820, was 33 35 per
cent; for the ten years ending with 1830, 33 26
per cent.; for the ten years ending with 1840,
32 67 per cent. During the last ten years, im
migration has been much greater than during
any previous ten years; and wo have great
accessions to our territory, growing out of the
annexation of Texas, and war with Mexico.
It is reasonable, therefore, to presume that the
rate per cent, of increase will be something
larger than in former decennial periods. If we
estimate the increase at 36 per cent , for the
ten years ending in 1850, we have now about
23,000,000 of people. We do not think the pre
sent census will vary much from this. The in
crease of tho slave population will not be in a
corresponding ratio They do not increase from
immigration. But there will be something over
3,000,000 of them. If we deduct two-fifths of
the slaves from tho whole population, white and
negro, we shall have about 22 000,000 of people
who are entitled to be enumerated in making a
basis of representation for the lower branch of
Congress.
Whatever may be the number adopted as a
basis of representation, it is certain that some
States, and some sections of the Union, will lose,
and other States and sections gain strength un
der the new basis. One section of the Union
will be disrobed of some cf its political power,
become weakened in the councils of tho nation,
have its influence reduced; and will be compell
ed to submit rather than control the affairs of
this great nation. With this change of political
supremacy, tho interests, and the feelings of sec
tions will be affected. Hence, at a crisis like
the present, when sectional feeling is intense, it
becomes a matter of great importance, of deep
solicitude, to seo where the power of the nation
for the succeeding ten years will bo lodged, and
what objects it will aspire to achieve.
The free States will show, by the present cen
sus, a population of about 14,000,000, and the
slave states about 9,000,000 If we deduct
1,000,000, which will be about two-fifths of tho
slave population, from the whole population of
the slave States, we shall have 8,000,000 left as
the number which will form the basis for Con
gressional representation in the slave States.
Tho relative strength, then, between the free
and slave States, for the next ten years, will bo
as 14 to 8. No matter what may be the number
of representatives decided upon, or what number
of persons shall be entitled to on© member, the
free States will have 14 for ©very 8 which the
slave States will have.
In tho Senate, however, tho difference for the
next ten years will not be so great. Thor© are
16 free States and 15 slave States ; or 32 Sena
tors from free States, and 30 from slave States.
In another point of view—-a geographical or
sectional one—we sea that the Eastern States and
most of the Southern States will lose power in
the lower branch of the National Legislature;
while the Western and South Western States
will have their power increased. The middle
States will lose power compared with the West
ern, though not so much as the Southern and
Eastern States. The political power is going
West and South West—it is travelling towards
the Pacific border, and will continue to do so for
the next century
How will this poster conduct itself for the
ne~t ten or twelve yeais, commencing after the
election cf 18521 What influence will it have
upon the destiny of oui Republic 1 These are
questions of mighty import; and they open a
wide field for reflection. Our country now grasps
with its right hand the commerce of the indies,
and withits left that of Europe. It spreads from
ocean to ocean, having every variety ot soil and
climate. Nature nor God, never before, on this
planet at least, endowed an empire with such
magnificence. We are blessed with Liberty,
Knowledge, and Religion—a beautiful triad, the
influences of which are calculated to mould a
destiny to which no other people ever reached.
That party which is to control and give impetus
to this destiny should have no sluggish blood in
its veins. It must wield power with caution,
with j ustico to all sections of our country; it
must enter upon its duties with alacrity and zeal,
if it wishes to wield the sceptre of the nation
during tho next decade. This country can only
roll forward to greatness by wise counsels, by
placing men in power of pure national feelings,
strangers to sectional strife and animosity. Tn at
such men will be selected to fill important public
stations is our ardent hope, and we shall do all
we can to secure the grand result that wo so
f mdly anticipate.
SUurarart.
Bishop Hughes’ Lecture on “the Decline
of Protestantism and its Cause.”
We have received a neat printed copy of a
Lecture, recently delivered by the Bishop, on the
subject indicated by the above title. We have
alluded to this subject before, but will give our
readers a little more of it.
THE BEGINNING AND PROGRESS OF PROTESTANTISM.
“ Protestantism began in the year 1517. It had
then a solitary representative; and as regards reli
gion, his voice was the only discordant sound that
could have been heard in western Christendom AU
had been united, all bad subsisted hi the harmony
of one belief; and although scandal existed then, as
now, and abuses of individual living were known;
and although public and private morals might have
furnished much ground for complaint, still, at least
there was one ideally perfect, central rallying point,
on which men’s minds were united—the beauty,
simplicity, and Unity of the faith of the Catholic
Church,which God had established for the salvation
of men. From this central point the new doctrine
tooK its bearings of direct and indirect antagonism,
and spread on every side. It beesme the theme of
general projects of political ambition, popular dis
content, and every species of human clement and of
human motive calculated to give impulse to the new
principle, which in itself, if it were true, would have
been al together worthy of the admiration of its ad
herents, and would have been well calculated to
spread abroad the doctrine thus introducedand pro
pagated with a rapidity to which there is no such
thing as a parallel in the history of the Christian
Church, or in the anna’s of the human race. From
Wirfemburgh it spread throughout Northern Ger
many. It reached, in a different form, however, the
Cantons of Switzerland. It penetrated the empire
of France. It took possession of Prussia. It per
vaded Holland, Norway, Sweden, Denmark, England,
and Scotland. It conquered them all;—and it met
a successful resistance only on the western borders
of Europe. Thu Irish nation stood together against
it, and struggled with constancy, perseverance and
determination; and although the battle has lasted
tor three hundred years, and although that down
trodden nation has suffered intensely for its adhe
rence to principle, still it did not give way to Pro
testantism.
“ What is very remarkable is, that Protestantism
should have made such progress in so short a time;
-that, within fifty years from its origin, it should
have conquered aud taken possession of eve'y inch
of ground, of which it is in possession at this day.
‘‘Oh how Protestantism must have been surprised,
astounded, and overwhelmed at the immensity and
variety of the spoils, into the possession of which it
so speedily entered! Yesterday it was proscribed;
to-day it is master of kingdoms, thrones, armies, pro
vinces, treasures, and the accumulated religious
and charitable offerings of Catholic generations for
a thou*and years ’ It came rapidly into th« posses
sion of what it had never labored to create; it reaped
where it had never sown; and the toil of the hus
bandman, who had cultivated the soil before, ac
crued to the benefit of his adversary, and was un
rewarded.
. The Bishop then geos on to say that the
sion of Frotescantism was to renovate a faded,
fallen, and false Christianity, and introduce a
perfect and pure religion in its place. It was
bound to accomplish two things—cofivert Pagan
nations, and Catholic nations, and to preserve
itself. If it lost itself in attempting to gain
others, then it would be seen that it was not
what it pretended to be—from God The
lecturer proves, or attempts to prove, that Pro-
in all countries, is cold, chill, and
dark, that its temples represent a departed creed.
He illustrates this by a reference to a great many
countries.
Ho then states the causes cf its decline, and
regards it as beyond all reasonable hope of long
continuance. He considers it a great curse to
tho world, and the author of most of its exist
ing evils.
V/edonot wish to become arbiters between
the respective merits of the two great Christian
sect?, but we may venture to ask the Bishop a
question How will he get over what seems to
boa fact, that under the rule of the Roman
Church in some of the most fertile provinces of
Europe, the people are sunk in poverty, political
oppression, servitude, and intellectual torpor,
waiie in Protestant countries, that had been once
sunk in the samo degradation, we seo great im
provement 1 Contrast Spain with Holland, or
Rome with Edinburgh or England, and it would
seem that Papacy had not done as much for man
as Protestantism. We do not say that Papal
dominion has caused the difference, but Protes-
tants do say so, and with some apparent plausi
bility of truth.
If we travel in Germany from a Roman Catho
lic to a Protestant principality, or in Switzer
land from a Roman Catholic to a Protestant
Canton, or in Ireland from a Roman Catholic to
a Proteftant County, it is commonly observed
that wo go from a lower to a higher grade of ci
vilization There is not co much thrift in Ro
man Catholic Lower Canada, as there is in Pro
testant Upper Canada; and the Roman Catho
lics of Mexico and Peru are not so prosperous
certainly as the people of the U States, where
the Protestant religion is the most prevalant.
It would appear to boa fact, on looking over
the Christian world, that Papal dcrainallon had
not done so much for man as Protestant domi
nation There may be some other cause for this
difference, but we merely stat? what appears to
be a fact.
The French nation may form an exception
But then again there is no country in the world
where the Roman Catholic religion prevails, in
which the church lias exercisea so littflrcontror
over the people as in France. She is indeed
called irreligious; and it is believed that the
writings of Voltaire, Volney, and other infidels
have had more control over the popular mind in
France, than the church.
The pamphlet is printed by Edward Dunigan
& Brother, 151 Fulton street.
The Edinburgh Review.—The October
number of Leonard Scott & Go’s republication of
this Review contains many interesting articles.
Among them all we have only been able to
glance at two; one entitled “ The United
States,” and the other “ Emigration and Indus
trial Training.” Both of these articles have a
deep interest to the American people.
In the article on the United States, the writer
asserts that Anglo-Saxon America is the land of
progress, whatever the end cf it may be, and in
that respect he declares we deserve the attention
of Great Britain. He says the vigor of our po
pulation corresponds to the scale of nature; all
our wants are developed, and all proper means
to satisfy them are within our reach. Our war
against the wilderness keeps our energies alive
and active, feeding us with victory and hope;
and all the experience of the old world comes in
to guide us. “ If,” says the writer, “ freedom
bo doomed to end in rebellion against God, and
anarchy among men. America will unteach the
world an error of 2,000 years. If, on the con
trary, self government be the secret of society,
or the right way towards it, America is the land
of promise and the obj oct of the highest hope as
well as of liberal curiosity.”
Our religions and our schools are briefly exa
mined, and we think with candor. It says that,
though thousands believe that religion is the
basis and soul of education, yet religion in Eu
rope, as moulded by most theological schools, is
found to be in an unnatural opposition to free
schools and free teaching, and it puzzles the
wisdom of England to discover how this fatal
schism can be healed. But in most parts of our
Union, the problem has been solved. “ There,”
says the writer, “ are free schools and indepen
dent religion in amicable fellowship; and it is
worth inquiry whether toleration in religion has
produced tho schools, or the schools have produ
ced toleration in religion.”
It is probable that the germ from which this
toleration sprung was in the judgement and in
telligence of the first emigrants, most of whom
left Great Britaih on account of religious perse
cution. But it is education that keeps this tole
ration alive, and will always preserve it, we
hope. The writer concludes his article thus—
“ To treat such a subject wisely is a task for the
best faculties of the wisest men. To treat it with
supercilious dogmatism or with national ill feeling,
must be discreditable to any writer of any country
-but most of all to any writer that speaks the Eng
lish tongue.
‘‘Amid the difficulties which beset all governments,
and the uncertainties that hang over the future of
aU nations, it would be rash and presumptuous to
pronounce that the civilization of America is doomed
to no reverses, no revolutions or mediaeval eclipses ;
that democracy will commit no crimes or blunders
entailing penalties upon unborn generations ; that
even under the best 'human guidance, the reclaim
ing of a moral, as well as material wilderness can be
one march of victory and triumph. But this much
we will venture to say, that, as the conditions of the
problem manifest themselves at present, the United
States have no greater lions in their path than the
ignorance, misery, and depravity of the plebeian po
pulation of Europe.”
_ Emigration and Industry.—ln another ar
ticle in the Review, we have some interest
ing thoughts on tho important subjects of
Emigration and Industry. There is an impres
sion in England that there are too many human
beings living on her soil, and that many must be
removed to bring tho population to a reasonable
number. But the writer thinks that if all tho
ships in the world were employed in taking off
the people, they would not be able to carry them
away as fast as they increase, by the excess of
births over the deaths Assuming this to be a
fact, tho writer seeks for some additional reme
dy for the evil, and offers the following remarks:
OVER-POPULATION, AND A MORALLY DAMAGED ONE.
“Amid all the theories which admit of being started
and hunted to nice or doubtful conclusions, it may
surely be safely asserted that emigration is a valua
ble resource in two cases;—first, in that of a morally
damaged population, which, from its state of social
disease, cannot find the means of living at home but
may possibly live abroad; and, secondly, in the case
of classes of men who, though not actually starving,
have been so far left behind in the great race of
competition which an old country like ours is runn
ing, that they are here on the verge of poverty,—
notwithstanding that they possess capacities and
dispositions which would enable them materially to
raise their position and increase their usefulness in
a new and open land
“It cannot but protract the confusion and uncer
tainty adhering to the common notions on over-po
pulation to find men. whose names are quoted in
Parliament on the subject of emigration, speaking
ot the advantage of removing skilled, able, self-sup
porting laborers from the country by artificial
indans,—on the supposition, that the better and
more effectively any number of laborers may work,
the more fully would their absence ‘ relieve the labor
market;’—as if it were production instead of con
sumption which renders a population burdensome.
On the contrary, we conceive it to be an axiom that
a well employed productive population cannot be
too numerous. It proceeds as a corollary from this;
that it is not from the absolute number of people to
tie square mile that a population is redundant; but
because, from want of capital, or of energy, or of
right calculation, or from some social evil or other, a
part at least of the population is not working effec
tively and productively. With free trade—with all
the world for its cornfield and its markets—a tract
of country may be as densely peopled as any crowded
city, and yet not be subject to the curse of a redun
dant population in the true economic sense of tho
expression. There must be a naturally bad, or a
demoralised and degenerate race of people, or there
must be bad laws, lack of employment, or some so
cial disease at work wherever we find this sad phe
nomenon of redundancy; and. with all the calami
ties which late years have brought upon us, it must
be at this moment an object of the purest pride and
most hearty satisfaction to every public-minded in
habitant of our island, to believe that the removal
of bad legislation is already, by the free space which
it has opened to our insular tnergy and enterprise,
doing more to adjust our population to its means
than any artificial drain can ever accomplish.
'■ It is not from their absolute numbers, but from
the kind of population which goes to make up those
numbers that Ireland is over-peopled by its eight
millions ; and that the West Highlands of Scotland
are over-peopled with her three hundred and fifty
thousand. No one who passes through the ruined
streets of Cashel, and sees the ghastly prowling ob
jects still left to supplicate subsistence from the
passing traveller—no one who passes the turf huts
of Kerry melting into their original bogs<-while the
remaining inhabitants gaze in blank and hopeless
despair on their black and rotted potatoe stalks—
can doubt for a moment that those who fled from
these ruins must be better anywhere then there. A
flight of this kind is more forlorn and terrible than
that cf a retreating army. But as they were a
thoroughly diseased population—a mortified spot in
the empire,—on the whole it is as well for the coun
try as for themselves, that they are gone; and we
may fain hope that it is within the capacity of pre
cautionary legislation and social restraints to pre
vent their places being re-occupied by others of the
like kind ; spreading around them similar suffering,
degredatiou, and alarm.
“Such is the effect of emigration, as a mere rid
dance. It is an amputation of the mortified parts
of the old social system But amputation is at all
times a harsh sad business. There is, as we have
already intimated, another—a nobler- a more cheer
ing aim of emigration—the placing of those who can
live, but who live poorly at home, in a position
where their qualifications will have a freer range
and can be exerted to a fuller purpose.”
_ Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine.—No.
5, vol. 31st, American edition, of this invaria
bly interesting monthly, is lying on our table.
It has an article on the “ Rise, Power, and Poli
tics of Prussia,” which may be profitably read.
It contains other articles of interest, among
which is the “ Renewal of the Income Tax.”
Leonard Scott & Co., N. Y. City.
“ The Daguerrian Journal.”—This is a
semi-monthly publication, neatly got up in
pamphlet form,'with cover. It is devoted cliief
ly to the Daguerrian and Photogenic arts. The
second number has been published. S. D. Hum
phrey is the editor and publisher, No. 235
Broadway.
“ The Chanticleer,” A Thanksgiving story
of the Peabody family, by B. B. Muzzy & Co.
of Boston, and J. S Redfield, of New York. —
This is a little holiday-book, written in harmony
with our cherished anniversary, and is calculated
to produce a still greater love for tho observance
of that day. It treats of homo characters and
incidents, and is pleasantly written. It is very
neatly got up.
Godey’s Lady’s Book ll. Long and Bro.,
43 Ann st., N. Y.—Tho December numburis
out. it is the last number of the XLI volume
This work excels in the beauty and morality of
its engravings, and has a great number of pleas
ing and chase writers who contribute to its co
lumns. Mrs. Sarah J. Hale, and L A. Godoy
edit it. it has a largo circulation—published iu
P?" iadelphia.
Graham’s American Monthly Magazine.
George R. Graham, editor. —We seo that G. P.
R. J ames, the celebrated novelist, has been en
gaged to write.for this Magazine, in addition,
the proprietor has a galaxy of literary persons
engaged. The engravings are excellent. De
witt and Davenport Tribune Buildings, N. Y.
Dictionary of Mechanics, Engine Work
and Engineering —Tno 21st number of this
great work, of which we have olten spdken is
before us—D Appleton & Co., N. Y., publish
ers, Oliver Byrne, editor.
SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF IEROIN&ND EDWARD DOCTOR,
COMPOSER AND PIANIST, FROM VIENNA.
This great artist is on the point of making a .
musical tour through the United States, accom- :
panied by his lady Madame Louisa Doctor, i
likewise an excellent performer on the piano. ■
It will, therefore, be interesting to be somewhat ‘
acquainted with the history of artistes who ar- :
rived in this country quite unknown.
Ferdinand Edward Doctor was bom in Vienna i
on the 2d of October, 1825. His father was an ■
intimate friend of the illustrious Beethoven, and )
known as the first organ player in Austria. '
The little Edward troubled his father every day :
in his earliest youth with the request to teach <
him the piano forte, and he commenced the in-.
straction of his son, when the latter was only ’
five years old. The boy improved in piano play- j
ing so remarkably, that he began to give his first;
public concerts' at the age of seven years. A |
second concert was advertised, when he had the
misfortune, on the morning of the day on which '
tho concert was to take place, to fall from hi? ;
chair and sprain his right hand. The boy being ;
determined not to postpone his concert, substi- .
tuted for tho regular programme three of his j
best compositions, which he executed with the j
left hand alone
The execution of that little boy was indeed
astonishing, and his talent created an extra
ordinary excitement all the professors of 1
music.
The father was urged to procure for his boy
the best chance of cultivating his talent, and he
was sent to Chopin, in Paris. After two years
residence there, he went to the great composer
Tomashek, in Prague, for the purpose of study
ing composition. He improved rapidly; he
composed overtures, symphonies for grand or
chestras, trios and quartettes for piano and
stringed instruments,'and several grand solo
LETTER FROM CALIFORNIA. .
By the Crescent City, wo received, through
Gregory & Co’s. Express, the following letter
from an old friend now in California -
San Francisco, Oct. 15, 1850.
’To the Editors.
Since my last letter to you, we have enjoyed
the very unusual thing in this lattitude, that of
warm, pleasant, sunshining weather—a mixture
of your May and June months. During the
summer season, we are visited almost continual
ly with the raw and fogyy weather which blows
from the north and west —so that when the old
Clerk of the weather condescends to gear up his
machine so as to pour down on us the genial rays
of the sun,he cannot find beneath his residence
of nebulina a more thankful collection cf sanors
and-senorrettas than within the magic circle of
Cal. It is weather like this which has given to
this western section of Uncle Sam’s rancherws,
the name of “ Italy of America.” Thirty miles
towards the interior and. you would be laboring
under the pleasant delusion, for eight months in
the year, that you were residing under the line
amidst the deserts of Africa, so “ dem’d” hot is
it. Here, however, for three hundred and fifty
days of the year, it would not take a great
deal of persuasion to induce you to believe that
your neighbors ware icehouses, and that your
great coat was made of linen.
The worthy citizens have just passed a crisis
—and every hombre buttons up his coat under
tho comfortable belief that he has assisted not
only ia saving Cally, but the entire of U. S.
potato patch from irrttrivable ruin. The
Whigs have carried tho State—so have the De
mocrats, so have tho Independents, and so too
have the Squatters. Each party is now perfect
ly and entirely confident of having a majority in
joint ballot in tho Legislature.
In the valley cf the Sacramento tho Squatters
are decidedly on the increase. They appear to
have a glimmering idea that one man ought not
to own ever and above two or three million acres
in a patch; and have therefore, come down on
tho monstrous claims held here under Mexican
grants, like a thousand of bricks, although land
speculators aver that it is not right for them to
do so without first paying into their (the specu
lators) pockets the round sums of ten to twenty
dollars the acre—the confounded Squatters will
squat, though contrary to immemorial usage
and the wishes of gentlemen in black coats. It
is positively shocking.
The long, long tram of emigrants is yet wind
ing its weary and tortuous course towards the
setting sun. Black despair—starvation—disease
—cholera, ore its attendant ministers; and, shall
I say it, so often has the tale ot woe been rung
in our ears, that wo no longer shudder at the
horrors depicted to us by those who have be
held the awful picture. Self, self! how supreme
thou art!
The other day a girl was found in a wagon in
the suburbs of Sacramento, who had just crossed
the plains. There she lay helpless as an infant,
the passers by pitied her, but no one rendered as
sistance, until a good Samaritan, moved by tho
compassion of a father, carried her to the hospi
tal, as the last glimmer of life was passing from
her mortal tenement. She died —the papers re
ported the fact—tho town wondered for a day—-
and she was buried with the hundreo's of beings
who have found a nameless grave in the valley of
the Sacramento —thousands of miles from home
and all its loved associations. What will not
man undergo for gold !
The combination of employers, who had con
spired for the purpose of reducing the wages of
their men, and advancing tho rate of custom
work, has become a decided failure. Even the
Alta California cannot stand it, although they
labored through it for three weary weeks—redu
ced their subscription one-third, and their job
bing one-half —independent of a loss of not less
than two thousand dollars in the increased ex
penses of the establishment. They were com
pelled to “ cave in,” —employ association hands
and discharge their rats. They attempted op
pression, and succeeded only by becoming the
largest losers. As a matter of course, the other
offices, with the exception of the California
Courier t immediately conceded to the very just
and far from extortionate demand of the prictars.
The fall trade is at this moment very brisk —
fleur, sugar, coffee, and, indeed, most of the
necessaries of life, have very rapidly advanced to
a high figure within the past two weeks—some
articles advancing over previous rates seventy
five per cent. The vast population in the inte
rior are laying in their winter provisions, and
until this demand is supplied, figure will rule
exceedingly high. Boots, of the coaiser quali
ties, are in much request; so, also, is clothing
of a heavy cast. Tne market, however, is well
supplied, and will no doubt fully mset the
demand, although at enormous rates of profit
to importers and jobbers. It is not probable that
the figures for long-legged, sewed boots, will
come to the mark of last season—as high as
ninety -six dollars having been at that- time asked
and paid.
The money market is rather tight, but not
sufficient to depress operations in business.
Notes, when due. are promptly met, and al
though we have had some heavy failures in the
interior, in consequence oi tho large credit given
by traders to damming companies—yet they
have nut been of sufficient moment to shake the
very general confidence felt in trade, it is tru
■ business is done iu a manner not altogether
legitimate, and merchants are prone to risk
much in speculation, in order to realize large
profits, that they way meet tho enormous inte
rests monthly accruing on borrowed money—the
rates being five, seven and ten per cent, per
month on short paper.
Although the market is well stocked with all
the nece*saries of life, slips are continually
coming into port, heavily laden, and the oons'e
quence is, that exporters, not being able to real
ize, will ba heavy losers. In three weeks at
most the rainy season will have set in, and then
all trade with the exception of the supply for
the river towns will be cut off, and business be
comparatively at a stand still until the opening
of the spring trade.
Improvements in the streets arc yet going on
very rapidly, some ten miles of plank road hav
ing already been laid, and it is contemplated to
lay as muon more before tho season closes. These
very necessary improvements will render San
Francisco more endurable than it was during the
continuance of the rain last year. Justicia.
JO” A nautical friend says, that ballet-dancers
wear their dresaos at half' masi i rs a token of
espect to departed modesty.
; pieces for piano solo. Most of these composi
: tions were performed at the concerts which he'
! gave in Vienna, Prague, Leipzic, Berlin, Paris,
‘ etc , with the greatest success.
• As a performer on the piano, Doctor is un
doubtedly the most accomplished and ingenious
• artist that ever was in this country. As a com
i poser, ho has tho best reputation among the
; young composers, and the criticism he got from
j Meyerbeer, about his opera “ Mathilda di
1 Sevilla” stamps his talent as of tho first rank ;
: oven that groat maestro Meyerbeer promised
■ the highly talented Doctor to perform his opera
: in Paris, under his own direction, at the Grand
Opera House, in the next spring. His wife is
j likewise an accomplished performer on the piano.
Her style is moie the sweet than the heroic.
She was married in 1849; Her father has a great
mercantile house in Vienna. Sho loves music
passionately, and promised her husband not to
abandon the art, but to continue performing at
concerts with him on a journey through the wide
world. They arrived here a few weeks ago,
; and gave, at a private soiree, some splendid
proofs of their skill.
; Doctor made his reputation first in Vienna,
j He succeeded by the side of Willmers, Schul
| hoff, Dreyschook, etc. The Pianist Doctor com-
■ bines in his performances, elegance, beauty, and
a perfection and power we never heard before in
this country. In his various styles which he
combines, and in his execution, he ranks with
all the great masters on the piano now living in
i Europe.
A great vocal and instrumental concert will
take place in a few days at Tripier Hall. After
attending this concert we shall be able justly to
appreciate the high talents with which these
eminent artists are endowed.
®irojpati«
The infamous, voluptuous, but. magnificently
beautiful'Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt, was born
about seventy years b. c. She was one of two
daughters of Ptolemy Angletes, King of Egypt,
who had likewise two sous named Ptoismy.
■ Cleopatra and her elder brother were left, by
their father’s will, joint sovereigns of Egypt;
' but a quarrel soon springing up bet ween them,
, she wag obliged to fly and seek refuge in Syria.
Julius Csosar arriving in Egypt some few years
. afterwards, Cleopatra, who, besides possessing
freat beauty, was a most fascinating woman,
eterminGd tu prevale on the conquering Roman
• to carry out the will of her father, and restore
’ to her that portion of Europe usurped by her
i brother. She scon obtained great power ever
' Qsp.sar, and having entirely captivated his ad
' miration by her beauty and accomplishments,
induced him to restore her to her share of do
minion.
Thia determination aroused the anger and in
dignation of her brother, and caused him to
make an unsuccessful attack upon Csosar’s quar
; ters The Roman, however, was well upon his
guard, and held out until reinforcements came
, to his assistance; when, in turn, ho attacked
, the young prince, overthrew his army, and pur
sued the king himself until he was drowned in
the Nile. Cleopatra, together with her younger
i brother, was' now invested with the sovereign
. power. Soon after C®3ar returned to Rome, aad
• Cleopatra followed him, living iu magnificent
style in that city as bis concubine. She aston
’ ished even the luxurious Romans with the mag
. nificence of her expenditure and the splendor oi
, her habits; outvying in extravagance, dissipa
. tion and wastefulness, the most profligate of the
t Roman population. When Casar was assassi
nated, she hastily left Rome and returned to
i Egypt. Becoming weary of sharing her throne
( with a brother, she basely poisoned him.
■ it was now that the connection with Marc
i Antony, rendered so familiar to all by the im
mortal pen of Shakspere, took place. Marc
‘ Antony was a man entirely after her own taste
i —profligate, extravagant, and luxurious in the
, extreme; selfish, and reckless to everything,
, save his own ambition and his concubine’s love.
, She spared no pains to fascinate him, and suo
[ ceoded as effectually as with Julius Cscsar; for.
s until the Last moment of his life, the great and
• victorious Marc Antony, tho first general of the
world, was captivated and led astray by this vo
. luptuous enchantress. Cleopatra, at her first in
. terview with him, was only in her eighteenth
j year; but she had all the charms, all the full
[ noss of those exciting beauties which distinguish
. only the second stage of womanhood in these
J climes, but are to bo met with in the precocious
houris of the Eastern hemisphere..
, Cleopatra, jealous of Antony’s sister Arsinoe,
induced him to put her to death, notwithstand
ing she had taken refuge in a sanctuary at Ephe
[ sus. Antony returned to Italy, and married the
half-sister of Octavianus, but soon deserted her,
' and fled with all tho impatience of a burning
’ passion, back to the arms of his Egyptian mis
’ tress, aad was welcomed right royally; never
before or after was more costly entertainment
1 provided for mortals, as was arranged by Uloopa
’ tra for the reception of her lover. Gold was
’ showered among the people, wine flowed from
' fountains; jewels and precious stones covered
the persons of tho most beautiful female slaves
1 the earth could produce; profusion, waste, ex
-1 travagance, and tho most refined debauchery
reigned in tho depraved Egyptian court, and for
; days nothing but orgies of a disgusting and de
grading description were indulged in. Golden
couches, prepared in the magnificent saloons,
received the' wearied and almost worn out
frames of the excited profligates, and for three
days and three nights after tho rejoicings had
terminated, Antony and Cleopatra remained
alone and undisturbed. Sentries wore placed at
their doors, with orders to forbid entrance to
whomsoever might come and disturb their dream
of love
Augustus Cmsar, sndignant at the treatment
his sister Octavia received at the hands of her
husband, appeared with a fleet and an army be
fore the town of Alexandria, where Antony and
his mistress then were, revelling in all the en
joyment of their illicit connection. The battle
of Actium followed, and ended in the total de
feat of Antony’s forces. Cleopatra, who was
present at tho battle, was the first to fly, and
this spirit of timidity was infectious with her
paramour. The desertion of his fleet and of his
army, left but the slender chance of sustaining a
> a siego; but being unprovided with the necessa
* ries which would alone enable them to hold out
any length ol time, Antony saw that his chance
J of escaping Caesar’s wrath was slight. A report
1 was brought to him that his beloved Cleopatra,
in despair at their defeat, and sinking with
■ shame at the remembrance of her own cowardice
and her lover’s disgrace, had put an end to her
existence. On hearing this, Marc Antony de
, stroyed himself with his own sword, before he
1 could learn that the news of Cleopatra’s suicide
was unfounded. Tho city was taken, and Cleo
> patra was closely watched by Octavianus, who
intended to bring her to Rome in triumph; but,
according to Plutarch, this vigilance was avoid
i ed by the seductive queen, lor a small serpent
. being introduced in a fig basket, she applied it
to her bosom and thus attained death. The emis
saries of Octavianus found her dead on a golden
couch, and two attendants lying beside her in
the last agonies, one of whom placed the diadem
on her mistress’s brow. An tony was iu his fif
tieth year at the time of his death; Cleopatra
had completed her thirty-ninth; two sons and
eno daughter were the issue oi the unhappy
connection which ended so terribly lor both par
ties. Cleopatra is still cited in Egypt as the
impersonation of everything splendid, rich, vi
cious, and magnificent.
A California School. —Tho first public
school in San Francisco already numbers 100 pu
pils, from 4to 16 years of ago. Of this vnole
number, only 2 were born in California—the re
mainder date their birth-place as follows: Scot
land 4, England 5, Ireland 5, Germany 1, France
1. Chili 20, Peru 1, Australia 20, New Zealand
15, Sandwich Islands 3—making 76 born in foi
tign countries Seventy-two are of American
parentage, 12 Scotch, 21 English, 18 Irish, 4
French, 5 German, 4 Chilian, 1 Spanish, J leal
lie and 1 Peruvian.
4S” Dr. Theller, wno took so prominent a
part in tho Canadian Revolution of ’36 and ’37,
is now in Prison at Panama, on a charge of hav
ing been engaged in the late attempt to revolu
tionize the Government of New Grenada.
< VOLUME 3.—HUM2EH 52.
$ PRICE THRRE CENTS.
DEGRADING PUNISHMENT.
Tho principles of Free Schools for ail ths
children of our Republic, is growing into popu
larity (lajly. Other States are following the
lead of Naw York and some of the Now England
States. People may differ about the mods cf
drawing the money from car pockets to support
the school®, but all agree that education should
be universal, and free.
Thera ia ono aubj act connected with the schools
that demands the most serious attention of the
people of all tho States in this Union. It is that
of corporal punishment.
Wo publish, below, a report on this subject,
made to the Board of Education in this city, by
, a Committee of that body, composed of the fol-
• lowing gentlemen. Dr. Wm. A. Walters, Semi.
• A. Crapo, John McLean, and Wm. S. Duke. —
i W e understand the report was drawn up by Dr.
j Walters, though it had the assent cf the entire
• Committee: —
The idea that corporeal punishment is necesesrv
; to eatorce obedience to proper authority iv public
, and private institutions cf learning, has prevailed
. mail past ages in which such institutions have ex
■ is ted.
; Though the present is an age in which ttreng efZ
1 forts are made to chow that the vicious propensities
I ot mankind can be better corrected by tho ixertlon
of a proper morn! power, than by corporal ohastise
ment of any kind, yet no general movement of so.
ciety ba, been made calculated to impress the pub
lic umd ot the importance of dispensing-wltb tho
rod in our schools, and substituting in its stead tho
gevernment of love persuasion, and reason
the public mind has been agitated on the Ques
tion of capital punishment, on that of flocrinc iu
the navy, and on other kindred subjects ; but tho
million, ot youth, who attend our schools, and who
arc soon to occupy our places in lhe varied transac
tions oi human affairs, are educated where the r’ <1
13 deemed necessary to enforce them to be obediei t.
attentiveuadjust; corporal chastisement Is tho on. v
punl-hment they are taught to fear. It may. at
least,,be alhrmed that it is a proper subject of inves
tigation, to whether the youthful mind
cannot be better controlled by moral power than by
corporal punishment.
Many entertain the opinion, that the use of the
th. ’,“«rf ur !“ hOO . I’is, 1 ’ is , “ bout as rtron 8 “n evidence of
the barbarity ol tins ago, as the pdlory, the stocks
and tan whipping post were of a past age 1 f there
is a necessity of Hogging th., youth in our schools
it is certjinly a melancholy proof of the feeble ope
ration that reason, and she proper exercise cf a
moral power, have on the human mind Corporal
chastisement ueba<es and degrades the intellecules
sens the love and respect which children should
have for their instructors, and dampens their ener
gies in the prosecution ol their studies. It creates
in the minds of children a belief that force and pun
ishment are necessary to make them kind, diligent
obedientandjust. Thtyhold to this belief in after
life, and corporal punishment becomes the law bv
which they enforce obedience from their own chUd
rm. We ailirm it to be a general lule. that in those
families where we find the most obedient children,
the rod is seldom il ever used. The minds of lhe
ornldren arc appealed to. They are taught to believe
that there is a happiness in doing right, and a men
tal punishment that cannot be avoided when tho
wrong is persisted in. Chastisement, or the applica
tu.u ot physical force, mnine cases out of every ten
11 inilicted when the anger of the teacher or parent
is aroused. \ ery generally the flogged child affirms
that vengeance will be his at seme future day. He
carries the idea of physical superiority to the plov
ground, and manifests it by the exercia. of his
power in flogrong some of his junior or less athletic
playmates it is thus that he acquires a disposition
to display his physical superiority, and loses the
moral power resulting from reason,lore,and persua-
Bion. *
An enlarged knowledge of tho laws of the human
Bind is an indispensable qualification iu a good
-eaciier. It he or she possesses such knowledge, the
various dispositions oi the pupils are soon under
stood A short lecture of live minutes, to a disobe
dient, inattentive, or refractory child, will have a
more salutary or reformatory effect, than a dozen
chaetißenienta with tho rod or any number of biowa
with the hand on the side of the head, confuting the
intellect, and exciting auger, or any amount of nun
ishinent inflicted in any of the absurd forms, tend ’
lug te debase and degrade the intellect and moral
propensities of tho child.
Al we^ 0 ? ld ascertain the causes of the reluctance
with which many children attend school, wo would
find that the tyranny of teachers is among the chief
of them. The various modes of punishment eradi
cate a love for the school room, prevent a proper re
spect for the person or authority of the teachers
and thus necessarily retard the advancement oi'
pupils.
Ja? 8 an aaioina tic truth, that in the whole circle
of the virtues of the human heart, or the ado>*n
ments of the human mind, uu t one can be developed
by degrading ohastisemaut. Humanity and lore,
reason and persuasion, will, when exercised, triumph
over the vicious propensities ot rnan’e nature far
more effectually than any form of corporal chastise
isieut.
Tile experience of those whose chief study his
been the human mind, eud who are distinffvishs •
for humanity S 3 well as knowledge, tends to SonflrS
tae truth, (that m the proportion) that humanity
has tnumpheu over the weakness and errors of ths
mind or heart, the victory has resulted from the
exercise of mildness, gentleness, love and moral
power.
The experience derived from some of the schools
m our city, is in conformity with the views wa have
expressed. We have some schools in which corporal
chastisement !g abolished in every depart »n nnf.
So far as we have had the means cf contrasting
the discipline, progress, and general condition
these schools, they compare favorably, at least, with
those In which an opposite policy is pursued. Could
the degrading practice of corporal chastisement be
abandoned, it Is our opinion that a wider progress
in the intellectual and moral advancement of our
youth would result.
It is our opinion that if the principles of this
report are carried out, they would have a mark
ed and an abiding influence for good unon sooietvS
We should than, at least, see whether the evil
passions of our nature could not be controlled,
or more nearly eradicated, by dispensing with
the use of the rod. Let the city of New York,
ft city that has boldly taken the initiative in &
great many reforms, take tho lead in endeavor
ing to prove that the persuasive art of govern
ing our youth will operate well upon their
tender minds. Let us endeavour to prove that
whatever there is of Divinity in their natures is
not so base that the use of the rod is nocossary
to its devclopeiuent. Let us speak in condemna
tion of a system so nearly allied to barbarism
—a system which debases the intellect, and is re
pugnant co tho best feelings of our nature.
It is a subject intimately connected with a
proper developement of the human mind, aadtLs
more noble and generous qualities of the human
heart, tfince the above report was submitted to
the Board of Education, Congress have abolish
ed the degrading practice of corporal punish’
ment in tho navy. A powerful public sentiment
urged them to action ; and thus our navy will
no longer suffer tho odium and disgrace which
result from the brutalising effects of the lash.
They have a very wholesome rule adopted bj
those who havo charge of Educational matters
ia the public Schools ia some of tho States; but
how far this rule has been adopted in the schools
of our city we know not. We see, by the New
Orleans papers, that it has been adopted in that
city. It is this. “ Any pupil guilty of disobe
dience to a teacher, or of other gross misconduct,
may be suspended from school, written notice of
which, stating the cause, shall bo immediately
given to the parent or guardian, and to the visit
log committee. If such pupils make proper
atonement to the teacher and procures tbe con
currence of the visiting committee having charge
of the school, he or she may be returned. This
is & wholesome rule. A competent teacher will
exert a moral influence over a child in ninety
nine cases out of every one hundred; and when
they cannot do this the proper way is to suspend
and report the case. Whipping is not half so
effective as moral means.
THE DEATH OF AN OLD MISER.
Strange scenes occur in this world If we
look around us we see poverty often groping its
way hideously through life, securing not even
the synupathy of the world around us. We see,
on the other hand, gorgeous wealth basking in
the sunshine, smiling upon its untold treasures,
often wrung from the labor of surrounding
poverty, and suffering only from its excess, and
the constant care it requires to increase its divi
dends.
But the Almighty has so organized some that
the appearance of extreme poverty, when they
have an abundance, is all tbe happiness they
enjoy, except it be to cling with a death grasp
to treasures hidden from the world’s view.
The following is an account of the death of
one of those creatures, whom God permits to live
on this globe, and whose death points out a
moral by showing us that happiness consists not
ia a superabundance more than it does in desti
tution.
The Cincinnati papers say that the death of
a beggar woman occurred in that city recently,
under the following circumstances:
She died iu the night, and in the evening a
lighted candle was placed upon a stand beside
the bed, her idiot daughter, a frightful looking
hunchback, being tho only at t end ant—though
for ti> part of the time the physicians were pre
sent. The old woman opened her eyes, and
perceiving the burning candle, ordered it to be
blown out, saying that she oould not afford to
pay for it. When first taken aick she ordered
the chest, which was, after her death, found to
contain nearly four thousand dollars in gold, to
be placed beside her bed, and she kept it within
her reach during tbe whole of her sickness: and
when the death struggle came on, and she was
told that she must die, ths flung herself upon tho
cheat, and clawed at it in her avaricious frenzy,
until she tore the <ery nails from her fingers,
and thus embracing the ill-gotten treasure her
spirit took its flight.
An old stove in the room was found after her
death, to contain a- considerable amount of sil
ver and copper coin, carefully stowed away.
The money and effects havo beon placed in the
bands of an executor, appointed by the court.
In 1840, when small change was scares, this
woman made a handsome speculation by selling
five husdred dollars’ worth at one time to &
single individual. This money was accumulated
by begging, by herself and her idiot daughter-
The tauter was generally flogged, upon her re
turn home at night, when did not make f.
good day’s work of it, and was always whipped
before she was sent out in the morning. The
crirs ot the poor creature, while tinder the lash
of her avaricious mother, have frequently ex
cited the indignation of the neighborhood.
It is tho part oi a woman, like her own
beantiftd planet, to cheer the dawn of darkness
t) be both, the morning ana evening star of man’s
1 fo. The light of her eye is the first to rise and
Lie last to set upon manhood’s day of trial and
Buffering.

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